


necessary evil

by theaugust



Series: grey and heavy [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaugust/pseuds/theaugust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Started with a prompt from Tumblr.  We'll see how far this goes.  Warden Jarek Tabris is a gender non-conforming trans man.  He and Alistair are a couple of giant dorks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	necessary evil

Stretched out on blankets and pelts, Jarek drifted off with the fire crackling a few feet from his boots. He fell into the dark.

He landed back at home. A small fire brightened the dark hovel. They had coin for wood. First time in months. A human had given Jarek’s father five silver for the privilege of meeting his daughter. They were at the table, elbows on either side of their clay bowls, filled with steaming, creamed oats. His father lifted a spoonful to blow at it.

“But I’m not a woman, Father.”

“We’re not talking about that.”

“But, Father—”

He dropped his spoon, spattering its contents on the table. "No, Jarka, this is how it is. You will go and meet this man—"

“A shem.” Jarek turned to spit.

His father slapped him across the face. His father’s broad hand left a sting all up the side of his face and his eyes blinking back tears. He stared at the dirt floor.

“You’re no Dalish, and you’re too old to be acting this way. If your mother were here—”

His father kept on, but all Jarek could hear was the frantic cadence of his own heartbeat. He struggled to swallow, and he reached out to his father. He stood and walked away. His back to Jarek, his father continued.

“Your mother was two years younger than you when we were wed. You’ll see. It’s the best thing in life: to take a spouse, make your own home, have children of your own. Once you’re wed, you’ll see.”

“And what does that have to do with this sh—human?”

His father crossed back to squeeze at his shoulder and smile. "You’ll need a dowry.“

Jarek stared at the fire. "Of course.”

“You’ll see. It’ll be just like when you worked at the tavern. First, you had to go and talk to the owner, remember? Then, simple as that.” Jarek did not move. His father sighed, “Go over and talk with him. Hear his offer. It’s honest work. The pay is better than you’ll find anywhere else in the city.”

And then Jarek was there. He was against the wall, its stones rough and cold on his cheek. The human had him pinned. Hand on his hip, body heavy against him, the human panted against the back of his neck. Jarek screamed. He pushed and pushed at the stones until he was smearing bloody palms and fingers on the grey. But the human had him pinned. He stilled.

When it was over, the human left. He sagged against the wall. The human had taken one look at Jarek—his shaved head, his face covered in dark purple ink, his tunic and vest, his pantaloons—and demanded he disrobe. When he refused, the human overpowered him. The human did as he wanted. Simple as that.

Large hands clutched his thin shoulders. He thrashed, all limbs jerking and shoving out. A human was over him, its hands on him. He punched the human. His fists, closed tight, connected with the left of its strong jaw, the right temple. The blows were precise, practiced, drilled into him by his own obsessive training. The human fell over. Jarek knocked him onto his back then landed on his gut. He grunted—a pained “Oof” which was all too familiar.

Jarek, bent over the human, stared down. His eyes adjusted to the faint glow of early morning and saw the features of the human’s face for what they were. Soft brown eyes were flicking across his face. Blond brows twisted up above them. The expression darkened faint lines across his brow, around his eyes, his lips… Alistair.

Jarek shifted up onto his knees. Dropping his head, he rubbed a hand over the dark stubble covering its top. Alistair was grinning up at him, and Jarek could have punched him again.

“Last time I ever do that. My apologies, ser.”

“I should apologize. I should have told you…” He shook his head.

“Duncan mentioned you hadn’t been sleeping well since leaving the Alienage.”

He grunted a half-hearted chuckle. "On the contrary, I sleep much better. My nightmares have some variety now. Last night, it was the archdemon, and tonight—" He had the words right there behind his crooked teeth, but all he could do was let out his breath with an agonized hiss.

“He hurt you.”

Brows drawn down tight, he glared at Alistair. He raised his hands, displaying his palms and splayed fingers in submission.

“You were screaming. I don’t know who at, but—you don’t want to talk about this, do you?”

“Fucking shit.” Shaking his head, Jarek covered his face. His fingers over the heat of his brow, his palms over the flush of his cheeks, he tried to hide himself. "I’m sorry.“

"Jarek, no, that wasn't—that isn't—there isn't—” Alistair scooted himself back. Propping himself up, he held out an arm and waved a hand at Jarek. "Come here.“

He frowned. "What?”

“I’m offering you a hug. It seemed appropriate.” Alistair sighed. Dropped his arm. "But I also seem adept at doing exactly the wrong thing. I’m sorry. I wish I was better at this. Or you had someone—I don’t know. You can’t feel very safe, alone amidst a bunch of strange humans. But you are safe. I know I might not look like much, but if Morrigan—"

Jarek laughed. Longer and louder than the moment probably warranted, but Jarek didn’t much care. He leaned over to throw his arms about Alistair’s neck. He was chuckling. His arms squeezed around Jarek.

“You’re like my brother. It’s only right I protect you from sneaky witch thieves.”

Resting his forehead against Alistair’s shoulder, Jarek mumbled. "I’m not your brother.“

"No? Here I thought we were having a moment.”

He smacked lightly at Alistair’s shoulder. Sitting back, Jarek studied his face for a long moment.

“I think of you more like a cousin.”

Arching one brow, Alistair smirked. "You fucked your cousin.“

Jarek glanced away. "I wish you wouldn’t put it like that.”

“Just trying to figure out if you’re flirting with me or trying to let me down gently.”

“Neither now.” Jarek stood. "I’ll go wake Morrigan. You start loading the cart.“

"Where are we going?”

“Redcliffe. It’s still an hour before the sun’s up. We should reach the village a bit after noon. If you’d start loading the cart, so I can wake Morrigan.”

“I will, but Jarek…”

Alistair trailed off into silence. His mouth opening and closing, he looked up at Jarek. He waited. Moments dragged by, and he shook his head.

“What’s the problem?”

“No problem.” He stood. "Just something I should probably tell you before we meet with the arl.“

"Yes?” Jarek tilted his head to the side.

Alistair rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Well, whenever you’ve worked up the nerve, you can tell me.”

He laughed, sharp and dry. Jarek clapped him on the shoulder.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. These things can take time.”

“I can be patient.”

Jarek smiled. "So can I, but Alistair—"

“I’ll load the cart.”

Nodding slightly, Jarek watched the other Warden leave. So far as either knew, they were the only two Wardens in all Ferelden. The weight of that hung over him as he trudged over to Morrigan’s tent.

—

On the road from Redcliffe, west to Calenhad, Alistair was quiet. Morrigan and Sten bickered in endless circles about mages and blood magic. The two Wardens had taken long, quick strides once the back-and-forth started. Well ahead of the apostate and Qunari, Jarek could still hear the sharp crack of Morrigan’s voice and the deep rumble of Sten’s. It took Jarek the better part of the day’s march to realize Alistair had been near silent the whole time.

Stepping closer, Jarek reached over to tap at Alistair’s elbow. He flashed a crooked grin.

“Something on your mind, ser?”

“The mages will have a solution.”

The grin faltered, faded. Brows pricking together, Alistair shrugged. "Maybe so.“

"Even the blood mage admitted there’s a way without resorting to—to that. The Tower will have lyrium. They will help. How could they refuse to help an arl?”

Again Alistair shrugged. "Yea, I know, but I, well—you grow up hearing over and over again how magic is so dangerous. So, this seems… wrong. I know we have to. What choice do we have? Kill the boy? Kill the arlessa?“ He shook his head. "Playing with magic seems a necessary evil.”

Jarek stopped. Alistair frowned.

“I’ve said something horribly offensive, haven’t I?”

“No, it isn’t.” Jarek sighed. Palmed the dark scruff dusting his head. "How do you even know? Do I get this look or something?“

A hint of a smile tugged at one corner of Alistair’s mouth. "Yea, your eyes go wide, your nostrils flare, and—you’re doing it again now, so I’m going to stop.”

“That’s what my father said. 'This is a necessary evil. Someday, you’ll see that.’”

The snap and growl of voices grew closer in the silence that followed Jarek’s words. He took several quick strides. Alistair fell in step beside Jarek. He slowed a bit. They continued in silence. It became obvious Alistair was not inclined to press Jarek. The human was, true to his word, patient.

“That shem lordling—the arl’s son—he… he—O, gods fucking dammit all.” Throwing up his hands, Jarek charged up a few paces. Turned back. Their eyes met. Jarek held his breath. The words were right there again. He had only to push them out with his breath. Simple as that. "He raped me. Nearly a year and a half before the wedding.“

Alistair blinked, face red, as if Jarek had slapped him. "And he's—that’s the same one you killed?”

“Yes.” Jarek hesitated, chewing at his lip. "If we do this right, no one gets hurt. I know good people died in Redcliffe. You say Jowan should be punished? I agree, but we’re Grey Wardens. We’re not arls. So, we save the arl and his son, we give Jowan to the arl—everything’s fine. Where’s the evil in that?“

"Really can’t argue against that.”

Jarek grinned. "No, you can’t.“

"I’m glad you’re here now.”

“An odd moment to express such a sentiment.”

“Is it?” Alistair rubbed at the back of his neck. "I mean it all the same.“

"Are you saying this as my cousin?”

Dropping his hand, Alistair chuckled. "I don’t know. Are you flirting with me?“

Jarek shrugged. "I should be the one asking you that."

“I’d probably evade answering, too, but I’d say something more clever than that.”

“Such as?”

“Can’t think of it now. You didn’t ask me.”

Rolling his eyes, Jarek chuckled. “Sure, fine. We can keep kicking that stone down the road.”


End file.
